


Comfort

by orphan_account



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-28
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-30 19:08:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1022347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tiny drabble inspired by my headcanon that Abbie has nightmares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> Don't look at me I spent like half an hour on this.

          Abbie had always been prone to nightmares. More than she had ever told anyone. She would wake up gasping, sweating, clinging to the sheets. And these nightmares – they weren't just about that day in the woods or whatever demonic forces were declaring themselves her enemy. Sometimes she dreamt about falling, or drowning, or suffocating, or the screech of brakes before a car crash. Other times about shadows stalking her from just out of eyesight, or of running without getting anywhere. A million different terrors that stole the breath out of her lungs.

          When she was younger sometimes she would cry. Sob, wishing there was someone to tell her it was okay. That it was just a nightmare; it wasn't real. Now she would mostly just lay still and alone, breathing in and out until the images faded from behind her eyelids. But occasionally her loneliness would crash over her, and she would sit up and draw her knees in, crying quietly until the sun rose.

          She first noticed a change after about three months of working with Ichabod, upon waking up from her first nightmare since she had dreamt about the sandman several weeks earlier. She was clinging to her pillow and the edge of the couch (which she commandeered for long nights when she didn't want to drive home, after some protest from Ichabod that she could take his bed – but she insisted on sleeping on the couch and he had reluctantly agreed, adding “if it is customary”). For a moment she lay still; alert, awake, quiet. Then she sat up, hands to her temples, trying to soothe the blood that was pounding in her ears. She remembered, however, with a little surprise, that Ichabod was asleep only yards away from her. Sure enough, when she looked over to his room the door was open and she could see him – lying on his back, mostly composed, but one arm hung off the bed and his face was lolled to the side.

          Something about it felt safe. That, if she wanted to – needed to – she could call for him and he would be there. Ever since that she was young, she had protected herself, she had stood up for herself, because she was the only one willing to do it. But for the first time in her life... that had changed. Some feeling akin to relief flooded over her. The pounding in her head ceased. And she feel back to sleep.

***

          Abbie didn't dream again for quite a while. She also began spending more and more of her nights on the old couch, because it made her feel safe.  
It was only one night, over a month later, that she finally woke up gasping again. And, to her surprise, she found that she had cried out. Crane seemed to appear at her side almost immediately.

          “Lieutenant? What's the matter?” He was peering down at her with a look of concern.

          For a second, she couldn't even remember – who she was, where she was, what danger she was in. Just that she was in it, and she needed him. She wanted to be protected, for once in her life. She deserved that. She blinked at him and sat up, drawing her knees in and reaching up to him. She grabbed his arm lightly to pull him down next to her, and he didn't resist. She wrapped her arms around his chest and buried her face in his neck. He seemed confused but not embarrassed.

          “I just- it's just a nightmare,” She murmured, already beginning to cry. She had never even told anyone about them – not even Luke; he was a very sound sleeper.

          “A nightmare?” Crane worried.

          “Not the sandman or anything like that,” She was slightly astonished at her ability to not sound blubbery. He responded with a soft 'oh' and relaxed a little, but instead of letting her go he wrapped his arms more tightly around her, rubbing gentle circles on her back. She didn't even bother trying to hold back her tears. She cried and shook and she was sure his shirt was damp from it but he didn't seem to mind. He just held her tight and murmured soothingly into her hair. Even when the tears subsided she was hesitant to pull away, still reveling in Ichabod's gentleness and warmth.

          “Do you have nightmares often?” He asked.

          “Once or twice a month,” She breathed into his chest.

          “I wasn't aware,” He replied.

          “Nobody was,” She finally drew herself away from him.

          He blinked at her, a little sadly, “I am sorry that you're continually afflicted with such dreams that they affect your waking conscious.” She shrugged.

          “If there is any way in which I can assist-”

          “What you did was perfect,” She replied.

          He looked a little happier. Pleased to have helped her, “You'll be able to sleep now?”

          She hesitated – for just a moment, the thought of being wrapped up in Ichabod's arms while she fell asleep was all too incredible. But then she nodded guiltily, “I'll be fine.”

          And she was, more or less, just knowing he was around.

          It was comforting.


End file.
